


the experience

by thatpynchbitch



Category: Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe - Benjamin Alire Sáenz
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Coffee Shops, M/M, barista dante and clueless ari
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:13:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25059064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatpynchbitch/pseuds/thatpynchbitch
Summary: Aristotle isn't impressed with his first month of college. He spends his nights buried in a book and bathing in solitude, avoiding any opportunity to branch out.Dante wants to try everything. He doesn't want to sit on the sidelines and watch everyone else live their lives while he stands by.When Dante meets Ari, he makes it his mission for the two of them to have the true "college experience"- going to parties, getting drunk, breaking a few laws, and maybe falling in love along the way.
Relationships: Aristotle Mendoza/Dante Quintana
Comments: 5
Kudos: 34





	1. Chapter 1

“How is it there? Are you making any friends?” my mother asks over the phone. Her voice is frantic, like this is the most urgent conversation she’s had.

I sigh. “Yes, Mom. I’m making tons of friends.”

“Really? What are their names?”

“Seriously, you want their names?” There isn’t an answer, but I imagine her with crossed arms and an expectant look. “Fine. There’s Josh, John, Jacob…”

“Wow, lots of J names…”

“Not all J’s,” I say.

“Oh yeah?”

“There’s also‒” I glance at a poster on my wall. “‒Derek.” My mother hums on the other line. “Listen, Mom, I have to go.”

“You do?” 

“Yes. It’s Friday night. There are parties. You remember parties. Irresponsible kids, underaged drinking, that kind of stuff.”

“Oh, hush, Ari. I know you’re one of the good ones.”

“Right.”

“Well, I’ll let you go then. Have fun. Don’t do anything your father and I wouldn’t do.”

“In that case, I won’t even leave my dorm,” I reply.

Now she sighs. “Oh, Ari. You impossible boy.”

“Love you too,” I say, ending the call.

Technically, I didn’t lie to my mother. It is Friday. There are parties. I can even hear people in the hallway getting ready to go to one. I just won’t be attending.

Instead, I grab my bag and a book and head out to find somewhere to escape the noise. The streets here can never catch a break. During the weekdays, the campus is overflowing with students navigating their way to class, while the weekend streets are home to everyone‒ from the stoner dudes to the ex-prom queens to the nerdy freshmen trying to find any party that’ll take them.

I walk a few blocks, squeezing around groups of friends who refuse to walk single-file on the sidewalk. Finally I spot a building with worn brown bricks and a sign for some café. I duck into the shop, which is luckily quite empty.

The smell of freshly brewed coffee floats its way around the room. I’ve never been much of a coffee-drinker, but maybe now that I’m in college it’d be a good time to start. Maybe then I’ll stop feeling like such a kid.

So I step up to the counter, my eyes scanning the menu on the chalkboard wall.

“Hello, what can I get for you?” the barista asks. I look down from the menu to see another boy smiling at me from across the counter.

“Um,” I hesitate. “I didn’t know there were so many different types of coffee.”

His smile only gets bigger. What’s up with that?

“Have you ever drank coffee before?” he asks.

“No.” I start to feel self-conscious under his gaze. Why doesn’t he break eye contact?

“Really?” His eyes light up like a child’s. “I know just what to make you.” Then he turns around and starts fiddling with the machines. I take a seat at the counter while I wait for him.

He takes a lot of extra time messing with the drink before placing the steaming mug in front of me. I look down to see he’s made a flower shape with the cream.

“That’s nice,” I say. “You’re a good artist.”

He looks away. “It’s just coffee.”

I shrug and take a sip of the drink.

“So, do you like it?” he asks with a grin.

The corners of my mouth turn up a little. “Yeah. It’s really good.”

“Yes! I knew you’d like it!”

I laugh a little. “Thanks,” I look at his nametag, “‒Dante.”

He leans against the counter with one arm. “You’re welcome. What’s your name?”

“Aristotle.”

“Really?” I nod. He just shakes his head as he laughs. “Wow. What were our parents thinking?” I just shrug.

“So,” Dante says, “are you getting your caffeine fix now so that you can party all night long?”

“Not at all. That’s not really my scene.”

“Mine neither, really,” he says. “I mean, I go out occasionally, so that I can get the ‘experience’ or whatever. But it’s not my favorite thing to do.”

“What kind of experience?” I ask.

“You know, that college experience everyone always talks about. Trying new things. Getting high for the first time. Experimenting.”

“What do you mean, ‘experimenting’?”

He just bites his lip and looks into my eyes for a few seconds before looking down. “I don’t know…”

I take another sip of my coffee. I must have missed something. I decide to change the conversation. “So, what _is_ your favorite thing to do?”

He blinks. “What?”

"You said partying isn’t your favorite thing to do. What is?”

“Oh,” he says. “I like to draw. And read. I spend a lot of time at the library.

“Do you have lots of friends?” I ask.

“Lots? No. Some though. Most of them went to different colleges. How about you?”

I shrug. “I don’t really connect with anyone our age.”

“You don’t connect with anyone our age?”

I stir my coffee. “The old ladies in my mom’s book club love me.”

He laughs. “I bet.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. And I bet they like your hair,” Dante says.

“My hair?”

“Yes. You’ve got lots of it. And you take care of it well.”

“I don’t do anything to it,” I reply honestly.

“Seriously?” he asks. “Okay, well then you’re just blessed with perfect hair, I guess.”

I snort. “Perfect? Yeah, right.”

He rests his head in his open hand and sighs a little. “You don’t take too well to compliments, do you?”

“You were complimenting me?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, Aristotle. You have so much to learn.”


	2. Chapter 2

I don’t know how long I’ve been at this café. With Dante. I think he was probably supposed to close up shop a while ago. We’re the only ones still here.

It’s weird. He’s weird. Talking to him feels almost natural‒ something I’m not used to. I don’t know how to feel about it.

“What are you majoring in?” Dante asks after a slight lull in our conversation.

I trace my finger along the rim of the drink I finished long ago. I don’t look up when I say, “English.”

He asks, “Do you want to write?” I give a little nod. “That’s awesome! I could never do that.”

“Not everything is awesome, you know,” I reply. “You don’t have to keep saying so.”

Dante looks down, and his nose scrunches up. I feel a little bad, so I ask, “What’s yours?”

He raises his head. “Undecided, for now.”

“Really? You seem like a kind of guy who does a lot of deciding.”

“That’s my problem,” he says. “I decide too much. One day I’ll decide teaching, the next I’ll decide chemistry, then maybe I’ll try training dolphins. I’m all over the place. It’s awful.”

I smile. “Actually, you’re right. That does sound a lot more like you.”

He reaches his arm out across the counter and smacks mine, gently. “Shut up. Only I can make jokes about how terrible I am.”

“Terrible? You? I’m not too sure about that,” I say.

“Oh, just wait ‘til you get to know me better. You’ll see. You’ve only caught a glimpse.”

“Is that so?” I ask. I don’t know what’s going on, but there’s something. It’s in his voice. It’s in the way his arm is still resting on the counter, his hand an inch from mine. Hell, I even hear it in my own voice‒ almost like a challenge, though I’m not sure what for.

He sort of smirks, but he manages not to look like a total douchebag when he does. “Yup. You’ll have to come back here many times to get the full picture. I’m afraid I may have to take up your Friday nights from now on. You know, so that you can really see just how terrible I am.”

I still don’t know what’s going on. His words are self-deprecating, but I’m not sure there’s any truth to it. This feels like something else. It has to stop.

I lean back in my chair, far.

“I have to go,” I say. Dante’s eyebrows go up. “I have stuff I need to do.”

“Right. Stuff.”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll let you get on that then,” he says. “Must be important.”

“Very.”


	3. Chapter 3

I walk back to my dorm in the dark, the streetlights guiding me home. When I get to my room, I check the time. It’s 12:36 AM.

I don’t have a roommate. It’s rare for a freshman to be allowed to live alone, but I guess I managed to slip by. That’s me. Always slipping by. Always under the radar. Always unnoticed.

I lie down on my bed and stare up at my ceiling. Time seems to pass both quickly and not at all.

I think about Dante, which is stupid. I’ve only known him for a day. Not even. I’ve known him for a few hours, that’s all.

But still. He makes me think. He makes me think about things I don’t want to think about, things I can’t think about, things that keep me staring up at my ceiling for hours instead of falling asleep.

Eventually I surrender the idea of sleep and get up. I couldn’t bring my punching bag to school, but I do have a dummy I pin up against the wall.

I take a few warm-up swings, just to give my mind something else to consume. I force myself to focus on the punches, going in harder and harder each time. Losing myself in this has become tradition. I don’t even realize an entire hour has gone by until I catch a glimpse of the clock as I fall back on my bed, exhausted.

* * *

When I wake, my hands are sore. I didn’t even wear gloves. I guess I love to punish myself.

After I shower, I sit on my bed and look around the room. It dawns on me that I have absolutely nothing to do. It’s Saturday, so no class. I’m sure my floormates have some kind of outing planned, but I don’t even know if any of them would recognize me outside of ‘that guy that takes too long in the shower.’

I already have this week’s homework completed, solely because there’s nothing else for me to do. Not because I’m super smart, or particularly enjoy it for that matter. I suppose I could get ahead for next week, or maybe do some reading at the library. I pick up my bag and join the outside traffic.

I let my feet go on autopilot, my head somewhere else, far away. Before I know it, I’m standing back in front of that same coffeeshop from last night. I can’t explain why.

For some reason, I pull open the door and step inside. Like I said, I love to punish myself.

I’m sort of surprised to actually see him again. It seemed unlikely that he’d work two shifts so close. Yet here he is.

“Dante,” I say.

“Aristotle,” he says back. “I’m a little shocked to see you here. You left pretty abruptly last night.”

I shrug. “I have nowhere else to go.”

He laughs a little. I don’t. He stops.

I sit at the counter again. “You can call me Ari,” I say.

“What?”

“Ari. Aristotle is kind of a mouthful, I know.”

“Okay,” he says. He tests it, “Ari. _Ari_. I like it.”

I do too. I like the way my name sounds on his lips. But I don’t say anything.

Instead, I ask, “Can I get a drink?”

“Do you want the same as last night?” I shrug, and he grins. “I’ll just surprise you again.”

“Alright.”

He gives me something cold this time, probably since the sun is out now, bringing with it the early autumn heat. I take a small sip to taste test.

“So?” he asks.

I hum. “Delicious. How do you know I’ll like whatever drink you choose?”

Dante smiles. “It’s not about the drink. I’m the one making it. Of course it’ll be good.”

“Oh, modest are we?” I ask, smiling as well.

“Most certainly. So, what else did you have planned for today?”

“Not much. I’ll probably just go to the library and read my book.” I hesitate, then ask, “How about you?”

“Unfortunately, I’ll be stuck here all day. When you’re at the library, just know I’ll be very jealous.”

“Oh,” I say.

He sighs. “Yeah. I usually don’t work this much, but I’m picking up someone else’s shift as a favor.”

“Okay.”

“Just so you know.”

I nod. “Just so I know.”

He looks down, then back up at me. He hesitates for a moment, then shakes his head a little, more to himself than me.

“Excuse me,” someone to my right says. We both look over to see a small line of customers has formed.

“Oops, hold on,” Dante says, then goes over to the cash register. He apologizes over and over again to everyone in the line. By the time he’s done serving everyone, I’m almost finished with my drink.

He walks back over to my part of the counter and smiles at me. I wonder if he ever grows tired of that.

“I guess you guys get more business in the morning than at midnight, eh?”

Dante laughs. He hold up two fingers, an inch apart. “Just a little.”

I spin the straw around in my drink. “You probably don’t have time to be talking to me then.”

Dante blinks. “No, I‒”

“I should head to the library anyway.”

“Right. Sure. Go ahead.”

“I will.”

“See you later, Ari.”

“Bye, Dante.”


	4. Chapter 4

I go an entire week before returning to that cafe. Once I drop my bag on the floor and sit down on my chair, Dante says, “I don’t like this.”

“Capitalism?” I ask blankly.

“No.” He gestures between the two of us. “ _ This _ . You have all the control. I could see you again tomorrow or never again at all, and it’d be all up to you.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Well, what do you want me to do about it?”

He leans on the counter, smiling now. “I’m thinking you need to hang out with me someplace outside of this sad little coffee shop.” He wants to hang out with me? 

Working to keep my face blank, I say, “I don’t think it’s sad. It’s just quiet.”

“Don’t you ever get tired of nothing but quiet?” Ha. To ask that is to ask if I ever grow tired of life itself. Dante studies me and rephrases, “Okay, have you ever  _ tried _ to put yourself out there? You know, even just a little?”

I don’t tell him,  _ you _ .  _ I put myself out there with  _ you. Instead, I tell him, “I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

He grins. “That’s where I come in. Remember how I told you I was trying to get a taste of that typical college experience?” I nod, trying not to cringe into myself as I realize what Dante is about to suggest. Confirming my fears, he says, “You should join me.”

“Oh, I don’t know…”

“C’mon. Please?” He juts his bottom lip out cutely. “Just one party, and then we can see how you feel.”

“I think I can guess how I’m gonna feel.”

“Is that a yes?”

I sigh. “Fine.” He grins like a little kid, leaping from his spot against the counter to throw his arms in the air. I roll my eyes, but the corners of my lips turn up. “But just this one party, okay? Then I force you to sit in silence for all of eternity.”

“Deal,” he promises. He’s still smiling.

* * *

I hear an impossibly loud knocking on my dorm room door at half past nine. 

Opening the door, I skip the greeting and say, “When I gave you my address earlier, that wasn’t a warrant to disturb the whole building.”

Dante lowers his fist sheepishly, like he didn’t even realize the noise he was making in his excitement. Is he excited?

“Are you ready?” he asks, looking around nervously now.

“Yes,” I reply, cautiously, studying him. “Are  _ you _ ?”

“Yeah, let’s just go.” He shakes his head and clears away any remaining traces of anxiety, to the point where I wonder if they were ever there to begin with. What would Dante have to be afraid of?

We walk to the north side of campus, to some frat house that looks exactly like every other fraternity on the block. There are Greek letters branding the front door that is constantly being opened by the steady arrival of party guests. A couple guys on the front lawn are standing around something that looks suspiciously like illegal fireworks.

“You don’t have to drink or anything,” Dante assures me as we join the crowd.

“Do you drink?” I step a little closer to him so that we don’t lose each other in the shuffle.

Dante shrugs, and I feel it on my right shoulder. “I’ve gotten drunk a couple times, only since being at college. I just got sick of acting like the perfect little kid everyone expected me to be, you know?”

“I know,” I say, and I do.

So we drink.

I don’t even know how it happens. One minute, we’re grabbing a couple beers from the kitchen, then we’re watching all the dancing couples with various expertise‒ some grinding passionately, others clumsily falling over each other‒, and eventually I can’t remember how many drinks I’ve had and Dante is leading me into the center of the living room to join in on the dancing.

“What are we doing?” I laugh. I try to remember the last time laughing came this easily.  


“I don’t know. Why do you always have to know exactly what’s happening?”

I shrug, and that’s that. Dante starts dancing, which is a generous way of putting it. He does this weird thing with his arms and twirls around in a little circle. I resist the urge to ask  _ What are you doing? _ , already knowing how he’d react.

“Why aren’t you dancing?” he slurs.

“You call that dancing?”

Dante snorts. “It’s not about the moves. You just gotta have fun. Don’t think about other people watching you.”

That’s quite a demand, considering  _ we _ were just watching everyone from the sidelines a few minutes ago, but I try to take his advice anyway. Maybe it’s the alcohol’s effect on me, but soon I forget about anyone that would be sober enough to judge me, and I just dance. I turn out to be better than Dante, though he takes my hand and pulls me closer to him and suddenly his dancing doesn’t seem so weird.

We’re moving in sync and I can feel his body against mine and I’m trying to figure out if this can be considered a normal thing for friends to do when a chorus of sirens interrupts my train of thought.

“What the hell?” I hear, but I don’t figure out who said it because suddenly Dante is tugging on my hand and dragging me to the door. The party is still just as loud, but the noise of music and laughing is replaced by that of a hundred people running and shouting all at once.

The backdoor is right off the living room, so Dante and I are able to escape despite the crowd. The two of us don’t exchange any words before we break into a sprint at the same time. Dante redeems himself after his horrid dancing by matching my speed as we run into the night.

It’s dark outside, and much colder than it was when we entered the party, but the chill just boosts my adrenaline. As we get further from the house, Dante slows and allows me to lead the way back to my apartment, and soon we’re catching our breaths as I unlock my door.

Dante mutters, “Christ,” and I realize it’s the first words we’ve shared since the cops showed up.

“It’s fitting,” I say. “Everyone else has been drinking illegally since puberty. I do it once and the cops come running.”

“How is it fitting?” Dante asks, dropping down on my bed. I sit beside him.

“I’m bad luck.”

He huffs. “You’re not bad luck.” I roll my eyes and shove him lightly. His face turns serious and he repeats, “Ari. You aren’t bad luck. Trust me.”

“Whatever,” I dismiss him.

He just sighs and leans back on my pillow. “Can I crash here tonight?”

I swallow. “Yeah. Sure. Whatever.” Dante smiles at me.

I grab an extra pillow from the foot of the bed and lay down on the floor.

“You don’t have to‒” He doesn’t finish his sentence though, just sighs again and tosses me a blanket.

“Thanks.”

It’s silent for a couple of minutes until Dante says, “Wanna play a game?” His voice is back to its familiar mischievous tone.

“What kind of game?”

“Truth or dare.”

“Are we twelve years old?,” I groan, but I still find myself saying, “Truth.”

He starts out easy. “Have you ever stolen anything before?”

“Never. Truth or dare?”

He considers for a moment before deciding, “Truth.”

“What’s the most embarrassing thing your parents have caught you doing?”

Dante shoots me a look. “Jerk. You already know what I’m going to say.”

His cheeks are turning a light shade of pink, and I burst into laughter. “I swear, that is  _ not _ what I had in mind when I asked the question!” I laugh some more and then continue, “Seriously? Like, actually caught you… doing, you know?”

He covers his face with his hands. “The most embarrassing thing wasn’t that my parents caught me jerking off, surprisingly. It was what I was doing it  _ to _ .” This catches my attention.

“And what was that?”

He gives me another look, one that says  _ how dumb can you be _ . I suppose I deserve that.

“I told them it wasn’t what it looked like, but… Anyways, they were like, ‘It’s normal to feel curious,’ and ‘We love you no matter what.’” He rolls his eyes, but there’s a smile on his lips. “Stupid loving parents.”

“Stupid loving parents,” I echo quietly.

“Whatever. Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” I say automatically. I don’t even know what kind of dares you could do with just two people.

“What celebrity do you most want to make out with?”   


“Jesus. Is that all you think about?”

Dante laughs. “Hey, I just said make out. Nothing dirty about kissing.”

I roll my eyes, but then panic because now I actually have to come up with an answer. It really shouldn’t be that hard of a question. Most guys probably have a list of at least ten girls off the top of their heads. I just need to think of someone, anyone, but my mind is completely blank. What’s one of the names of those Victoria’s Secret models? They’re pretty, right?

“Ari?” Okay, it’s definitely been way too long.

I struggle to remember literally any girl’s name, before finally blurting out, “Kristen Stewart.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“Oh. Cool,” Dante says, his voice a lot smaller than it was moments ago. I thought he’d make fun of me for choosing Bella from  _ Twilight _ , but he doesn’t even seem to register my answer. I would think he hadn’t heard me if it weren’t for his weak ‘cool.’

I shake my head around as if that’ll push away the sudden awkwardness, then ask him whether he wants truth or dare. He picks truth, so I ask, “Do you have nightmares?”

This breaks him out of his weird silence, and he turns to me with furrowed eyebrows. “Not since I was young. Why?”

I just shrug. He studies me but lets the moment pass, so we continue with the game. Eventually we give up the ‘truth the dare’ part and just ask each other personal questions back and forth.

At one point, Dante asks, “What’s your biggest fear?”

“That’s quite the question.”

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. I can think of something else.”

“No, it’s fine.” I take a deep breath before saying, “I guess my biggest fear would be that I’ll never actually be happy. And never really be…” The word is hard to get out. It feels like too much, and maybe a little embarrassing, but I say it anyway. 

“... loved.”

Dante is quiet for a moment before simply breathing out, “Ari.”

“No, it’s‒ it’s fine. Don’t.”

“Ari,” he repeats, and it’s like a prayer. “Don’t be stupid. I may not know you that well, but I know enough. And you… you’re…” I don’t say a word as he struggles to find his. “Listen, all I’m trying to say is that you shouldn’t be afraid of that stuff. Okay? There’s no one who wouldn’t love you. As for the happiness thing, well, it’ll come. We can work on that together.” He gives me a lopsided grin.

I turn away so that he can’t see my face. I don’t trust my voice to say much, so I just whisper, “Okay.”


	5. Chapter 5

I’m sitting in my dorm studying when I hear a knock on my door.

“Dante?” I ask, opening the door.

“No, his evil twin. He hasn’t mentioned me?”

“What are you doing here?”

“You didn’t really think you’d get rid of me after just one party, did you?”

“It’s Tuesday,” I say as he pushes past me to let himself into my room. “And I really regret showing you where I live.”

“Do you have any more classes today?” He flings himself onto my bed and shifts around until he is comfortable.

“No, but‒”

He gets a wicked grin on his face. “Have you ever trespassed before?”

“Dante.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“What do you expect me to say? Of course I haven’t. And going to jail is not on my list of things to do today.”

“Today? Does that imply it might be tomorrow?”

I don’t dignify his response with a reply, so he presses on. “We aren’t going to get arrested, Ari. It’s a petty crime. Besides, everyone sneaks up to the conservatory. It’s, like, a rite of passage here.”

“The conservatory?” I’ll admit I’m a little intrigued.

Dante smiles. That’s his default. Smile, smile, smile. “So, you want to?”

“Doesn’t seem like I have much of a choice.”

“Good answer.”

* * *

“You didn’t say it was gonna be cold up here.”

“How do you always find something to complain about?”

I look away. I don’t know how to explain to him that I don’t know how to be carefree like him. How to be so comfortable with myself, with everything around me.

“Besides,” Dante says, climbing the last rungs of the ladder as I trail behind him. “It’s not like I’ve ever been here before.” He shoots a look my way, grinning mischievously. “You’re taking my conservatory virginity.”

“God,” I say, rolling my eyes. “You say more ridiculous things in one day than most people do all year.”

“Most people are boring. Would you rather be hanging out with them?”

“No,” I admit.

Dante grins. We’re at the roof of the conservatory now, and it really is worth the trespassing. Not that I’m about to tell Dante that.

“Well?” he asks, holding his arms out like he designed the conservatory himself.

“Still cold as shit.”

Dante sighs. “You’re such a grump.” And before I know it, he’s stripping off his coat and moving toward me. I take a step back out of reflex.

“What are you doing?”

“Here,” he says, holding the coat out in front of him for me to take.

I shake my head. “No way.”

“Oh, come on. Just take it. What’s the big deal?”

I don’t say anything because there’s no good answer. What  _ is _ the big deal, really? I’m cold; he has a jacket. It’s a simple solution. But none of it feels simple.

When I make no move to grab it, Dante steps forward and wraps the coat‒  _ his _ coat‒ around my shoulders. My face feels warm, and it has nothing to do with the fabric.

He stays close even after the coat is secure. I can feel his breath on my face. To give his hands something to do, he runs them along my upper arms, making sure the coat is in place. I feel his touch all the way down to my bones.

Neither of us says anything, and his hands never break contact. I hold his gaze, and the air feels charged with something, but with what, I’m not sure.

Then he breaks the spell. “Better?”

" Yeah.” My voice is embarrassingly squeaky.

He turns around, facing the rest of the conservatory. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

I watch his smile as he takes in the garden, a bit of his hair falling into his face. “Breathtaking,” I say.

* * *

We explore all around the conservatory. At one point Dante picks up a discarded flower and tucks it behind his ear. He turns to me and grins. All I can do is laugh.

“You have so much hair,” he says.

“Thanks for letting me know,” I answer sarcastically.

Dante isn’t fazed. He has that look on his face that means he has an idea, and he isn’t about to listen to me. “You could probably braid a lot of flowers into it,” he ponders.

“That definitely sounds like something I’d do.”

“Okay, fine.  _ I _ could braid flowers into it.”

" You know how to braid?”

“Sure.” Of course. There isn’t one thing that Dante’s bad at. “I used to have long hair, you know.”

“And you braided it?” I try to picture it and fail. I don’t see too many guys like that.

“You sound so shocked, Ari. Where do you come from?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know. You just seem so…” He gives me a look, a real look, and his stare makes me vulnerable. I can’t decide if I want him to turn away or look deeper. “Like no one’s ever told you you can be different.”

“Different?” It’s as if he has all my secrets, as if he knows everything just by that look.

“You know,” he says, but he doesn’t continue. It’s not until then that I notice our proximity, even closer than normal. I’m not sure who moved first.

“I‒” My eyes flicker down. So do his.

“Is someone up here?” A voice like thunder crashes into the rooftop, interrupting whatever was happening between us. We both flinch and whip around to the source of the voice. Some man, a security guard maybe, climbs up from the ladder to search the conservatory.

“Shit,” Dante whispers. Still, like he can’t help himself, he grins a little at his swear.

“Come on,” I murmur, grabbing his arm to lead him away from where we’re standing. We crouch behind plants as we tiptoe around the perimeter of the conservatory, always staying just out of sight from the guard. Once he’s on the opposite side of the ladder, I motion for Dante to follow.

“Quick!” I whisper as we creep over to the ladder and try to descend the rungs as quietly as possible.

I’m already at the bottom of the ladder when Dante’s leg slips and bangs into the side of it, the metal clanking loudly.  Hurried footsteps sound from above, and I yank Dante down and pull him away so we can run from the ladder.

We dash down several flights of stairs and duck into a random hallway, not caring where we are so long as we don’t get caught. As soon as we get a chance to pause, Dante rests his hands on his knees, breathing heavily.

“Can you believe it?” he asks between pants.

“How out of shape you are? Definitely not.”

The corners of his lips turn up.

" Seriously, though,” I say. “Are we ever gonna hang out without it ending in a cop chase?”

“Cop chase? You’re so dramatic, Ari.”

I roll my eyes. “Nevermind. I don’t want to anymore.”

He stops laughing, but he doesn’t drop the grin. “So, you did want to hang out again?”

I flush. “I am the one who brought it up, aren’t I?”

“Well, I’d be  _ honored _ , Aristotle.” 

I snort. “Who’s the dramatic one now?”

“Hey, one more comment from you, and I’m revoking my friendship. Got it?”

For once, I smile. “Got it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading!!! <3 feel free to leave a comment if you are enjoying it so far :')


	6. Chapter 6

The second I answer the door, I hear the click of a camera as a flash blinds me.

“Jesus,” I say, “Christ.”

“Good afternoon to you too, Ari.” Dante grins then holds up the picture the camera deposited. It’s not finished yet, but I can already see how ridiculous I look. “Guess what I bought.”

I give him a blank stare. “Definitely not a Polaroid.”

Sliding past me to let himself into my room, he just keeps smiling and shaking the picture, even though that doesn’t actually speed up the process. The quiet that had settled into the corners of my room vanishes easily as he wanders around and makes himself comfortable. He has a way of standing that makes him fill up whatever place he’s in.

“Want to know what we’re doing tonight?”

I watch as he aims at the window and snaps a shot. “Filling up the Foam?”

“Pulling an all-nighter!” He has to drop the camera on the bed so he can shake this photo too. Turning so he can see me, he asks, “You know Foam?”

I shrug. “I guess.”

Dante eyes me in that way he does. “You should give yourself more credit.”

“Whatever.” I shrug again. “Did you say you wanted to pull an all-nighter?”

“You sound very unenthusiastic, even factoring in your usual disdain for anything fun I want to do.”

“I dunno, don’t you think it sounds pretty… juvenile?”

At that, he breaks into a fit of laughter. “Did the world hear that?  _ The _ Aristotle Mendoza is too cool for me and my _ juvenile _ wishes.”

“Ha. Ha,” I deadpan. “Have you seriously never stayed up the whole night?”

The corner of Dante’s lips turns up. “I guess I never had anyone to do it with.”

“You don’t need someone else to stay awake all night,” I say, just to be impossible.

“Maybe  _ you _ don’t. I’d probably pass out from boredom if I had to go that long without talking,” Dante says.

This makes me smile– one of those small, private smiles that sneaks up on you. “Yeah, you probably would.”

* * *

We get pizza delivered to my dorm because apparently Dante’s idea of an all-nighter also includes never leaving the room. Once we’re done eating and cleaning up, Dante returns to walking around my room and inspecting my belongings. I sit back on my bed with my hands resting behind my head, letting him snoop.

“Ari!” Dante gapes at me in awe from across the room. “Is this an honest-to-god radio?”

I shrug, which does nothing to cure Dante’s excitement. “It has a dial and everything. A dial! Do you listen to this? Do you get home from rolling your eyes at me and go  _ turn this dial _ and listen to America’s top forty? Who _ are _ you, Aristotle Mendoza?” He laughs with a light in his eyes and I roll mine, which only causes him to grin wider.

I don’t want to think about his last question, so I just say, “You’re so dramatic.”

He ignores me and turns on the radio, turning the dial until he finds a popular radio station. We just catch the tail end of whatever was playing before an announcer goes on about a raffle for some festival in town. Dante turns his attention to my desk, already bored of the radio I suppose.

I lean back and let myself watch Dante. How crazy he is, with all those smiles and that endless joy. How impossible.

The radio host finally stops talking, and the beats of the next song start. I nod along mindlessly for a few moments before the recognition sets in. My eyes are already on Dante, so I can see when he realizes by the change in his posture, like he was jerked awake.

He turns around and we share this inexplicable look before bursting into laughter.

“The song!” I say or shout or laugh. “It’s the song!”

“No way. No fucking way!” Dante jumps around until he reaches my bed before dragging me up with him.

Because it’s the song from the party. The song that was playing before the cops interrupted. The song that we danced to, when dancing felt like we could do anything.

I shake my head with a smile and join Dante in dancing (jumping, really) until we look like a couple of losers who never learned to just shut up and quit laughing. It’s silly and stupid and carefree and couldn’t be any more different than last time, with the heat of the party and Dante’s breath on my skin. Still, it feels just as good.

* * *

“Time check?” Dante asks. He’s lying on the floor tossing and catching one of my boxing gloves.

“2:30.”

“Tired?”

“Not at all.” I cover my mouth and let out a little yawn.

“You should come down here.” He peeks at me before turning his attention back to the glove. “It’s dangerous on the bed. You might fall asleep.”

I roll my eyes at his excuse but find myself getting out of bed and crawling over to him. Our feet lie in opposite directions, but our faces are beside each other.

I stare at the ceiling and listen to Dante’s breathing until he breaks the silence. “Do you box competitively?”

“Used to.”

“Used to?”

I lift a shoulder lazily. “I did when I was younger. Quit when I got to high school.”

Dante turns his head so we’re facing each other. It’s weird looking at him like this, our faces upside down to each other. “Why’d you stop?”

Maybe it’s the hour or that the way we’re lying makes it feel like I’m not looking directly into his eyes, but talking doesn’t feel so impossible. “I didn’t want to spend time with all those boys. It’s such an intimate sport… I don’t know. I guess I was– scared.” I close my eyes. “I didn’t want to be  _ seen _ .”

Dante is silent for a long time. Maybe he fell asleep. Or maybe he’s completely weirded out and is currently planning his escape from me and this night.

Finally, he says softly, “When I kissed a girl for the first time, I was so confused.” I have a feeling his eyes are closed, too, but I don’t want to open mine to check. I don’t want to break the spell. “I mean, it was fun. Kissing is fun. But…”

I inhale. Dante exhales.

“I thought it would be magical. Like–” Dante trails off and sighs. “I think you know.”

I breathe in slowly, slowly, slowly. “I know.”

I open my eyes then. Dante looks peaceful with his eyes closed like they are now, like Aurora sleeping. In my three a.m., upside-down haze, I reach out and trace Dante’s lips with my finger, slowly. They’re just as soft as I imagined. I can feel his breaths on my hand, shorter and shorter with each moment.

The part of my brain that makes logic and fear and common sense tries to tell me to pull away, but I’m far too captivated. It’s like Dante’s put a spell on me. And now the only thing that exists is this moment, Dante and I in this moment.

“Ari,” he breathes. It’s quiet and longing and so different from his usual jokey self that I don’t know what to do with it.

I move on from his lips to his cheekbone and the little freckles there. I have to look away. “I’m not– I can’t–” I close my eyes and groan at myself. How can something you want more than anything be so close yet so far away? “I’m not ready,” I settle on.

Dante covers my hand with his, still on his face. “It’s okay.” He tilts just so and gives my wrist a barely-there kiss before pulling away. “Really, Ari.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahh I loved writing this chapter, so I hope y'all liked it <3
> 
> (p.s. take a shot every time I used the word 'impossible'. seriously. (and this is AFTER editing out an impossible amount of 'impossible's))


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